The Jellicle Year
by Ava Nova
Summary: 365 different stories for each day of the Jellicle year. Rating varies for each chapter. 23-02-12 - I'm baaaaaack!
1. January 1, Resolutions

_**A/N: Yes, I have taken on the huge task of writing something, long or short, oneshot or drabble, for each day of 2010. There will be days where I don't have computer access, so I'll have to update them later, but I WILL write one for every day of the year.**_

_**Of course, I'm doing another one for Glee as well, so this is a major task to take on considering how I have to write two things each day AND uphold my other stories. Hopefully this will test my limits as a writer!**_

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**January 1****st****, 2010 - Resolutions**

_A new year's resolution…_

The Junkyard was dark, barely lit by the glowing moon as shadows cast along the floor. But this didn't stop the celebration, the quiet chattering and giggling as the tribe waiting for the bright, colorful lights that would sparkle across the sky at midnight. If humans had done anything right, it was to create these wonderful lights.

Jemima was sitting amongst her friends, giggling and chatting and dreaming about a new year when it struck her. She knew you were meant to think of a resolution each year, something to change about yourself to make you a better person. And yet she had none.

"Hey," She asked, gaining the attention of the group, "What should my New Year's resolution be?"

"No catnip!" Etcetera joked, chuckling before Victoria's paw hit her hard in the back of her head.

"Maybe you should go on a spiritual journey of some sort?" Electra offered.

"I wouldn't know how to do that." Jemima replied bashfully. While the kittens quickly moved on to a more interesting topic Jemima seemed detached, unable to decide what her resolution should be. It needed to be special to her, something to change her life for the better.

And as the fireworks erupted and caterwauls filled the Junkyard, Jemima found one.

_This year, I'll tell him I love him._

"Happy New Year's." She whispered, turning back to her friends and smiling along with them as they cheered loudly, colors splashing across their faces.

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**A/N: If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them! (I know that both my fics start and end the same way, but that's sort of the point xD)**


	2. January 2, Decade

_**Um... It's tomorrow :p I won't get a chance to update during the day, so I'm updating at just past midnight :p Thanks for all the reviews you sent in, so here's a short drabble-thing for you. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 2**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Decade**_

A decade was a long time to live for a Jellicle.

Old Deuteronomy had lived much older – so much that he was a legend to those outside the tribe – but making it to your tenth birthday was a celebratory moment. But it was also a sad moment.

Skimbleshanks reached his tenth birthday on a Thursday, an ordinary day for many. He was on his way home on the train, quite excited. A birthday meant a wonderful cake from his mate, Jennyanydots, and a loving family gathering. It was really all he needed. That's why he loved birthdays.

Jennyanydots was cooking cakes, hoping they were ready for his arrival and trying to make this a great day for her dear. But a nagging in the back of her mind brought her to the fact that they were both getting very old, and… it hurt to even think about losing him. That's why she feared birthdays.

A decade was a long time to live for a Jellicle. But it wasn't long enough.

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**A/N: I know, it's short and kinda sad. But deal with it!**


	3. January 3, Bump

_**A/N: Another midnight update :p Enjoy you guys! (... or girls :p)**_

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_**January 3**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Bump**_

The night started with a bump.

I wasn't paying attention to how fast I was going – I didn't have the time, I was so extraordinarily late – and so turning that final corner I slammed into his body with more force than a wrecking ball. I tripped, and as he fell to the ground I tumbled right over him, my head hitting his harshly.

"Ow! Bast almighty!" He yelled, paws clutching his aching head as I dizzily got up.

"Pounce, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" I asked, giving his head a once over. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off quickly. "I'm sorry, but I'm really late, see you!"

"Yeah… see you Cettie." He called to me, slowly becoming quieter and quieter as I ran home.

I slammed through the cat-door, tripping over the welcome mat and sliding down the polished hallway.

"Kitty!" Cynthia cried, picking me up and hugging me. Cynthia's my owner's daughter. She's little, and hyper, with a rounded, freckly face and bright blue eyes. I'd like to think I'd be like her if I were human even though she gets really overbearing.

She carried me into the kitchen and gave me my food; luckily it was leftovers as I thought. What they thought we enjoyed was way off the mark. I meowed at her in the kindest way I could before scampering out the back window and into the large garden, decorated by numerous colorful flowers and plants, the grass so green I usually fear stepping on it. I knew they would be waiting.

"Hey Cets, what up?" Tumble asked, looking over Plato's shoulder as I ran over.

"The sky." I cracked. He rolled his eyes and punched me lightly in the arm. I was one of the guys here. Nothing weird, just like being any other guy and escaping the talk about collars and cleaning and the new dance routine Vicky just _had _to show us.

"Pounce not coming?" Admetus asked, leaning casually on my shoulder. I sidestepped, laughing as he fell to the ground painfully. "If he is he didn't s how it, I ran into him on the way here. He was heading back to the Yard." Plato shrugged, mumbling something about his loss.

We did this every night. We would all sneak out and just hang. No worries, no talk about normal life. We had unspoken bond, a rule that this was our own little world where stress was an outcast. Of course, to be initiated you had to have a certain strength.

This story started with a bump, rough and painful on the top of my head.

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**A/N: You know, I have no idea where this came from. It's just a sort of quick fix thing, trying to get something done.**


	4. January 4, Accidentally In Love

_**A/N: I wrote this while listening to 'Accidentally In Love' by Counting Crows, so I'm sure you get today's subject. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 4**__**th**__**, 2010 – Accidentally In Love**_

How did this happen?

It was like one day we were friends and the next… I had butterflies in my stomach from him smiling at me. I wanted to go throw up from the stress, or just kiss him. And a part of my mind is still sitting back there going 'dear Bast, what is wrong with you?'.

I mean, me and Misto have been friends for as long as I could remember. We both had a sort of quietness to us at times, which worked perfectly for both of us as we worked each other out of our respective shells.

I have these fantasies of us getting together and being some supercouple. We understand each other, we've known each other long enough by far. But maybe that's what would pull us apart. Our similarities would be so staggering that we wouldn't be able to cope with each other.

So I pull the classic adolescent move, and I try to ignore it, pining for him from the distance of my own mind.

How could I have fallen in love so accidentally?

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**A/N: Imagine who it is as you will. I know all of them so far have been short, but I'll have a good one short for you some time in the future. Review, if you please!**


	5. January 5, Needle

_**A/N: Random Word Generators are the bomb. Going to see Sherlock Holmes today, going on a camping trip tomorrow! … Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!**_

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_**January 5**__**th**__**, 2010 – Needle**_

Human's had their good points, even Rum Tum Tugger could agree. They fed him and gave him a warm place to sleep, and cleaned him and allowed his every whim.

However once every now and again they would come up with something that makes him want to light himself on fire.

The room smelled clean, if that even was a smell, blindingly white walls covered in strange posters of various animals and their bodies. Margaret, one of his owners, was continuously pushing him onto the cold metal table each time he attempted to jump off, ordering him to sit and that the Vet would be back soon.

_The Vet? But you only go to him when you're sick, or…_

His eyes widened with horror as the doctor approached, a large needle in his hand filled with a strange, colored liquid.

"No No No NO!" He cried, trying to scamper away as Margaret and the Vet held him down, forcing the needle past his fur and skin as he yowled painfully.

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"It wasn't that bad, was it sweetie?" Margaret asked him on the way home, holding him in her arms and mollycoddling him.

"I detest you thoroughly, woman."

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**A/N:Yep, Tugger no likey the needles. Review, if you please!**


	6. January 6, Target

_**A/N: Somehow, writing the CATS ones has been harder than the Glee ones. Maybe it's the amount of input, maybe it's the fact words are easier to put into a real life setting. All I know is, I'm falling behind on the Cats ones. :p Leaving in about an hour, have a wonderful week and I'll update when I get back!  
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_**January 6**__**th**__**, 2010 – Target**_

Hunting wasn't very interesting after a while. You just gained the important skills and suddenly it was so easy to catch what you needed there was no excitement in it. Most of the full grown toms then went for larger, harder to catch prey, but being so small even the whole group of kittens couldn't take down something that big. So they turned it into a game.

"Target acquired. White and brown mouse, 10 o'clock." Pouncival whispered to the group as they crouched in the bushes.

"Where did he get this from again?" Etcetera asked whoever happened to be near.

"Something about the picture box those human's have, 'TV's' I think." Tumblebrutus whispered back. Cettie rolled her eyes.

"Ready? Move." Pouncival said as they each moved about the clearing, hiding behind trees and bushes and surrounding the little mouse, not nearly enough to feed each of them. In the same, organized movement they pounced, cornering the rodent. Quaxo picked it up by its tail.

"Look, it's a Tumblebrutus mouse!" Jemima giggled, poking it with a claw as she examined its identical coat patterns. Tumble turned to her, lightly shoving her shoulder.

"So should we take it?" Electra asked, pointing to the bag filled with squirming mice at her feet.

"You're not gunna eat mini-Tumble, are you?" Jemima cried. Every chuckled, before sighing and letting Tumblemouse go. They shifted back into the trees. A few moments of silence reigned over the group, looking for their new target, before—

"Target acquired."

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**A/N: Loved it, Hated it? Let me know.**


	7. January 7, Rainbow

_**A/N: Yep. I couldn't upload this till I got back, but here it is! Read this little drabble thing while I type up the next one. Enjoy.**_

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_**January 7**__**th**__**, 2010 – Rainbow**_

Demeter liked rainbows. It was hard to figure out why, seeing as she was quite a serious queen. But something about the bright blaze of color across the sky gave her hope for the world.

They were rare, and the world was in need of a lot more of them.

Because the bright blue sky was a daily thing, and had lost all meaning. But the rarity of a rainbow always made you gasp and stare, wishing that the pot of gold at the end was real, and would solve all your problems. And maybe it could. But sometimes it was okay just to enjoy the simple splay of color across the one tone sky, shining in the recently passed rain. Letting it give you a secret happiness only a bright, innocent thing could deliver.

It was the same thought she had when Jemima was born.

"The world cannot be that bad if something so beautiful is in the world."

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**A/N: Very very short. Drabble even. I wrote this before I left for Bright, so bleah!**


	8. January 8, Illusion

_**A/N: I've been typing like crazy to get these all up, considering I couldn't exactly type them on my hiptop (little buttons, big thumbs) so ignore the shortness of some of these. I'll try to keep the AN's to a minimum for the next few so I can write them faster. That you all for being so patient with me!**_

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_**January 8**__**th**__**, 2010 – Illusion**_

I was slowly becoming a master of illusion.

All magic is smoke and mirrors, human and Jellicle alike. What powers I had, they weren't normal, but they weren't as special as everyone makes them out to be.

In the dark of night I was an entertainer, throwing about lighting and loud crashing sounds, in the eyes of them. In my eyes a lie; a falling trash can with a loud metallic clang, a simple trick of the light. I did not control lighting, or appearance or disappearance. I changed what they saw, and as the crowds cheered at my prowess I would cringe inside, knowing I was doing little but deceiving them for my own gain.

But what did I gain? I gained a reputation; I received admiration but nothing that was really me. I became loved for what I could to, not for who I was. It would always be this way, with all magicians alike. We would be a pawn to the world, a lifeless form for amusement and use, but never to be seen as a being. It crushed me inside.

But ever the magician I kept the smile on, tricking my followers into believing all was well.

I was the master of illusion, for even my smile was little more than smoke and mirrors.

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_**Poor Misto. Just a look into how he feels. Review, if you please!**_


	9. January 9, Song

_**A/N: I didn't know how to go about this, really. Considering song takes up most of the Jellicles' lives I didn't want to just do one song, so I did a little drabble on what song means to them. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 9**__**th**__**, 2010 – Song**_

It's in our blood, our lives. We use it to express ourselves in times of bravery and fear, love and loathing, entertainment and boredom. Song encompassed what we had been for generations, new and old. Some were sung every year, some were new and unheard of. Each of us held song close to our hearts; some of us even have songs made for us. Rum Tum Tugger, the Old Gumbie Cat, Old Deuteronomy – they make us who we are, and let everyone know that we are singers, we are dancers – even though no one will understand it. No human can find what makes song so important to us.

But I guess that's the point.

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_**Just a little thing. I'm not good at detail in a hurry. :p**_


	10. January 10, Hiding

_**A/N: A common subject for kitten stories.**_

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_**January 10**__**th**__**, 2010 – Hiding**_

You can tell a lot about someone from the little things. I had learnt about Jellicles from the way they play hide and seek. Can you see it too?

Victoria has always been a bit snobby, thinking she's more mature than she really is, acting high and mighty. That's why when she plays she will play along, letting the real kitten out, until she starts losing. Then she calls the game 'an immature waste of time' and storms off. Sometimes she watches us, with a little bit of jealously in her eyes.

Plato is the same way. But he actually is older, so he will play along to keep us happy until he gets tired or bored, then he just sort of walks off. He doesn't have a lot of patience with us, sort of like he doesn't know how to handle other people. Admetus is the same way, though he never tries, just sits on the sidelines with a constant thinking look on his face, like he's asking himself if he's going to join in today.

Pouncival plays rough, finding it hard to realize girls aren't as strong (well, Etcetera is). He slams roughly into them, which doesn't bother most of us except Jemima, whose a bit of a cry baby. She runs of quick to find Demeter, but she always comes back to play again.

Etcetera is almost like one of the guys, roughhousing it. She doesn't seem to mind what others think of her, just doing what she wants to have fun. I have a feeling that deep inside, she is bothered when Vicky makes fun of her for playing 'kitty games'.

Tumblebrutus is difficult to understand. He plays with Pounce, but always tries to save Jemima, because he doesn't like to see the queens hurt. Victoria says he's a 'gentleman', saying he just knows what's right and wrong. He normally plays real well, until he sees Plato or Vicky looking down at him (he's a little older than the rest of us, around Vicky's age). Then he goes red and mutters something about not being able to play. He just wants to be on everyone's good side.

Mistoffelees and Quaxo always work together, always on the same team. They are really good at hide and seek for some reason, though Mistoffelees is good at almost everything. Quaxo is surprising though. He's fast, and he knows how to hide, but he plays like it isn't a game. Everything to him is a chance to prove he is just as good as Mistoffelees, who wins effortlessly at whatever he tries. Secretly there's something boiling under their skin that's about to explode.

I don't think they know how much I can tell about them from the simple things. But it makes it a lot easier to read them, knowing they aren't trying to hide themselves.

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_**A lot longer than my normal stuff, but still short. Review, if you please!**_


	11. January 11, Journey

_**A/N: Quite frankly I don't like how I wrote this one. It didn't turn out how I had imagined it, and I have a horrible way of dealing with a description of things, including how horrible I think this is. Just skip it if you like.**_

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_**January 11**__**th**__**, 2010 – Journey**_

My spiritual journey had passed – the fleeting moment in time where a Jellicle can hear the sounds, see the sights, feel the feelings of the universe. A feeling of magic and euphoria, all too quickly stolen away and replaced with a feeling of emptiness and… completion. My life is over, and it is time for me to move on.

But I can still feel that small journey, something I know my sons will someday see, my tribe, everyone. Humans call it 'the light', or a flash of life before their eyes. But we Jellicles are honed on it. It is the most beautiful sonata, the most detailed and intricate painting, the smell of freshly cooked food of all kinds – it is perfect. It gives you a taste, the perfect amount, before it is taken away. For even in that small moment you feel pushed down by it, like it is all too much. You are stuck between sadness and relief that the moment has passed.

My thoughts move onto those who are attached to this. Those whose life is a spiritual journey. Coricopat, Tantomile, Mistoffelees. They do not see the euphoria, the happiness, but have a constant connection with the earth and the heavens. They feel the magic around them, they see and taste and hear the universe every moment of the day. Many a night I had sat awake, watching as they cannot sleep from the many things that onslaught them, until the collapse from sheer exhaustion. It is difficult for all of us to understand what a difficult life they lead until we each take our own journeys.

And they are all so young. My life is fleeting, and I can hear that euphoria, the Heaviside Layer calling my name. In a trance I pass, in a trance as the lingering spirits clamor my vision. But I see them, standing in the background, understanding. They almost glow. The spirits follow them, as they now lead me to my ending. I nod at them, passing them slowly, and they nod back, respect for me still evident in their posture, their eyes.

I have never had more respect for them, because I now know that to take a spiritual journey a lifetime long is a torturous experience.

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_**Meh, I fixed it up a little. Review if you enjoyed it.**_


	12. January 12, Umbrella

_**A/N: Umbrella… difficult to do for cats. Let's just pretend they have, like, cat-sized umbrella's, okay?**_

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_**January 12**__**th**__**, 2010 – Umbrella**_

Jennyanydots was a beloved, motherly queen in the tribe, someone you could always turn to. Many times in my life I had relied on her for help and advice, or support in times of sadness, enjoying the homely feeling of her den. The human style fireplace in the corner, with a pot of something always boiling above the orange flickering flames, various little knitted things covering the surfaces and floor.

But what always fascinated me most was the tall, thin pot near the door, absolutely crammed with various umbrellas of different colors and patterns. Jenny says she always liked them because of how they shielded you, and that she had a special one she uses for each person. On the rainy days, when I've been inside baking or knitting or talking to her, she would pull out an umbrella and walk me home. It was always the same one – a navy blue, one half almost covered by a milky white moon, and the rest scattered with stars. Most of the time she would let me hold it, even though it was pretty heavy. I would spin it around and send water flying everywhere, getting us both completely soaked. But Jenny would never mind, always laughing it off with that little twinkle in her eyes. She told me once I remind her of herself when she was young. I think I help her remember her youth.

Jenny is sort of like an umbrella. When the rains come around to soak me to the bone, she's always standing there, waiting to help me and make me feel better.

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_**Short but nice? Tell me, I wanna know!**_


	13. January 13, Clue

_**A/N: I had trouble going about writing this, I did about 7 different tries. Eventually I just gave up and stuck with this one. It's short, deal with it!**_

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_**January 13**__**th**__**, 2010 – Clue**_

Hi. I'm Etcetera. I'm only young, and a lot of people think they know me without even trying.

I'm going to clear this up now. They don't.

They say I'm a tomqueen, which is sort of right, but they also think I'm some sort of bubble-brained airhead who needs to follow directions. I'm actually pretty smart. Okay, so I don't get math or writing or geography, but I can read people well. I'm a speaker. I have street smarts. But I never have a chance to use them.

I'm constantly sort of left out, treated like a clueless waste of space. They talk to me like humans talk to babies, and I seriously have to resist clawing at their faces. It's rather sad, actually. No one ever takes the time to see what I'm good at. Though the world is a negative place. You ever notice how on the human 'news', they show more bad things than good? Yep, it's a sad place.

Where was I? You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this. I wish I could teach you about the whole 'don't judge a book by its cover' thing, but you're bound to anyway. I mean, if a rat walked into your home, you'd probably kick it. But what if that rat was a good rat, and just wanted some food to feed it little rat babies and rat mate? You'd still kick it anyway. Because it's taking _your _stuff. And you like your stuff, and don't want it taken by smelly rats.

Though then again, cats eat rats, so that's not a good example. Well, mice actually, but you get the idea.

Anyway… I'm not totally clueless. Really, everyone else is.


	14. January 14, Quote

_**A/N: Usually the subject for each day is the same, but this is the first day I've had a different subject for my two stories (this one is a quote, while my Glee one is 'Throw'). I don't know where it came from, but it sounded nice. Admetus POV, to save confusion. Short, but sweet. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 14**__**th**__**, 2010 – "It's always those that speak the least that have the most to say."**_

I could always see it in her eyes – the words, the opinions, the wisdom inside she didn't let out.

She feared rejection so strongly, and so her great intellect was wasted in her own mind. Locked away and forgotten, so she could just sit in silence and hide her true nature.

Exotic a, I mean. We shared many long, private conversations behind the hubbub of normal Jellicle Life, where the others competed for the spotlight in games of who likes who and who did what, basking in the reflected glow as we knew it was all we would get. We were okay with that.

"Some day," She would tell me, eyes glazed over in a dream-like state, "We will look back on this and be proud. We have lived happy lives, haven't we _Ma chère__?"_

She was asking me as much as she was asking herself. She lacked the life she wanted, of freedom and knowledge and acknowledgement without beauty or cunning. A hidden lust for things unknown. She could have been a scholar, an explorer, a gypsy, but instead she stayed with me, sharing her shy words with those who would listen, watching the world pass by without her and assuring us both we chose the right thing.

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_**For some reason, Exotica is French. I just sort of like her that way, being an interesting character no one seems to develop fully. If you have any characters or songs or quotes you would like to see in the future I'd love to hear about it. Review, if you please!**_


	15. January 15, Chicago

_**A/N: I loved the musical Chicago, and the image you got of it from that movie. Electra was the character I saw dreaming of being a traveler (other than Exotica, who doesn't have the drive to leave). There is a bit of an OC appearance, but you probably won't see him again. **_

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_**January 15**__**th**__**, 2010 – Chicago**_

There is a traveler, Thomas, who visits us in the short time between the bright, warm Summers and the gold and orange of Autumn, where the leaves are green at heart but nearing the earthy browns and gold's he spoke of seeing in New Orleans. A spring in Paris, a short time in Rome, Australia, New York, Dublin, Dunedin, Moscow, Berlin… each with a vision and a story and a trinket collected in a small kerchief tied to his back.

We would gather as he rested, opening his little 'bag' and showing us where he had been, eagerly spreading stories of who he had met and what he had seen. Buildings that caressed the clouds, towns of stone where you travel on small boats to get anywhere, oceans of such a deep blue he said they reminded her of Cassandra's eyes, causing her to blush furiously. He told queens of the flowers of Sweden, in yellows, scarlet's, deep violets. He shared raunchy stories with the toms of the 'Howl-worthy' queens of South America, which always made me roll my eyes.

I prefer his story of Chicago. The dank, dark city he described always drew me in, more so than the happy places I was ever so used to. He spoke of Jazz, music with a deep resounding bass and blaring trumpets, slow or jumpy and oozing confidence. He told of how the town smelt of stale smoke and alcohol, with pretty ladies filling the streets and men in stiff suits. Crime riddled the streets, but it was more of an entertainment than a horrible thing. The press controlled the town, deciding if you rose or fell. Image was everything. The flashing lights and glittering dresses. It was a seedy place, surely, but there was nothing like it.

And as the wind changed he would move on, like a ghost. Almost like her was never there we were barely left with memories, dreaming of places we may never see. I would lie awake in bed, a sequin I had found held tightly in my hands as I imagined it was off a beautiful cocktail dress, dreaming of Jazz notes and whiskey and songs of messing around with someone you weren't mated to, A dark, stale underworld that lived only in a dream, but sparkled to life as the sun set.

Something I would never see firsthand. Only through Thomas.


	16. January 16, Call of Duty

_**A/N: I need to do some more funny chapters, most of them are just so dramatic… like this one. Enjoy it anyway, I'll try to do a happy, light one soon.**_

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_**January 16**__**th**__**, 2010 – Call Of Duty**_

It has become a full blown war. Constant attacks on our land from Macavity's army of rats had forced us into retaliation. We were cutting of his supply routes, scaring his followers away, anything to avoid violence. But it has now become too much, and we have quickly learned to live with the violence.

Plato has a surprising lust for blood, a capability on the battlefield unknown until it was in use. He would hurt mercilessly, but never kill. He could break legs and arms and injure, knowing the body and where it will hurt. He has become an icon, a leader in these dark times. Munkustrap isn't happy. My brother is never happy these days, it seems.

He has been cast away as leader for his inability to understand when you need to resort to violence. We don't want to, and he simply doesn't understand the concept of not getting what you want. He always was the favorite son…

But that doesn't matter anymore. I have become used to returning to the Junkyard with blood splattering my black and white coat, the red splotches darkening as my black splotches did. Cassandra's beautiful eyes would always widen in horror, worrying about whether the blood was mine, or someone else's. I was lucky to never have been hurt too badly, at least on the outside. I could feel that I would never recover from what I had seen, what I myself and my peers had done.

Some of the queens have helped. Rumpleteazer is an asset on the battlefield, and after sneaking away to help we found Electra to be a capable fighter. Exotica, Admetus, Plato, Mungojerrie – all heroes at war, some we never even believed to be. While Mistoffelees does not have violent magic, he easily blinds and distracts with his lightening, making it an easy knockout for us. I drew the line at Jemima, so small and innocent, wanting to help. We told her she could not, and she now heals the wounds she herself could have received. The enemy is always out to kill us, but we retain out respect for life. We can always return home with a sense of pride knowing we do not kill.

However not all of us have returned home. It is painful, having to bury someone close to you. Someone you loved like a brother. He was so young, and he had so much potential. Poor Tumblebrutus, the kindest of us. Always so heartwarming, and now he is… gone. He will never know what it is to be mated, to find your true love. We will remember him.

We continue to fight however. For him, because he deserves revenge. For the fact no one else deserves to die in this pointless fight. I answer the call of duty. I fight for freedom.


	17. January 17, Unity

_**A/N:Yes, I know I'm behind. I've been kept away from the computer for the past few days, but I'm working on getting all the chapters up to date. Your patience is astounding, readers!  
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_**January 17**__**th**__**, 2010 – Unity**_

"I sometimes wonder what it is that unites us." Demeter said loudly, speaking to the tribe in a calm, cultured tone that she had learned over the years of public speaking. As the mate of the soon-to-be Jellicle leader she was like a celebrity, constantly under the public eye and she needed to show a friendly, yet intelligent face. The now stood tall, atop the rusted TSE1, the only hints of fear in her mind, kept under lock and key.

"Could it be who are we are? Being Jellicles, cats of above average intelligence and talent? Though it may sound immodest, it is true what we are. But surely there are others out there like us?" She turned and locked eyes with various Jellicles in turn, capturing their attention.

"Could it be that we sing and dance, that it is in our blood and being? No, it couldn't be, for I know there are others like us out there who can do what we do."

"It is in our sense of affection, I think." She stated, locking eyes with her mate in the crowd. "IN ways I don't know, we seem to have such a connection with each other. We help each other without it benefiting ourselves, we form families and share a smile on the sad days. This tribe, many years ago, was formed out of the love of a family, and it continues that way to this day. And so when I am questioned as to how we have stayed together for so long, I can think of only one answer. Because we care for each other, because we a_re _family."


	18. January 18, Ice

_**A/N: I just had this awesome idea, until I realized it would defeat the purpose of this being a challenge for me – any really dedicated readers could send in little things they had written for me to post on days where I really just don't feel like writing. It would be nice, but I have to keep doing this thang! Cheer for me!**_

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_**January 18**__**th**__**, 2010 – Ice**_

Jellicles can't ice skate.

You know, being that they generally hate the water, in any form, and that they don't exactly have paw shaped ice skates. It should be impossible, and to even try is asking to hurt yourself.

That doesn't stop me though.

I've always had a fascination with the cool, hard surface of a frozen lake, the texture almost like glass as I lay my paws upon it. I would slide along the ice, trying to keep my balance on the slippery surface before inevitably failing, my legs scrambling about as I tried to get traction and fell onto my stomach. My friends thought it was pretty funny, but always cheered me on when I jumped back up again and continued to try.

It's like flying, gliding on air and knowing that in any other circumstance standing there would be impossible. I enjoy the freezing Winter breeze and I fly across the ice, and despite its common image of a foreboding, cold, hateful death, I find nothing sooths me more.


	19. January 19, Shop

_**A/N: Another excellent idea – I've always wanted to do an FAQ on a story, and so I think I might do one every now and again for this one. Send it any questions, and I'll either do one at the end of each month, or one at each quarter of the year (you know, March, June, September, December). I'm also being forced into a trip to my grandma's, but I might be able to sneak a laptop over and update for you. Enjoy!**_

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_**January 19**__**th**__**, 2010 – Shop**_

Victoria likes a lot of things. She likes warm fires after a particularly rainy day, she likes the vibrant hues of an after storm rainbow and the soft shag carpet in her owner's house. But above all of these things Victoria loves the store windows at Tiffany's.

She carefully jumps up, paws away from the glass, looking over the various gold rings and silver bracelets, the diamonds and rubies and sapphires that glittered from the lighting in the decorative case. She looked over them with a cool, haughty gaze, as she had seen many welled dressed humans do. At times some scruffier looking humans would appear, gazing at the little folded cards with cursive writing on them, gasping about prices and scampering off. She realized that they must have to pay something for these beautiful gifts, and some simply couldn't afford it.

She had heard some other Jellicles referring to it as 'window shopping'. Sometimes they would join her, going to various stores and looking at the wares through the windows. Being cats, however, they could never buy anything, simply walking away again with empty paws.

There was one particular bracelet Victoria liked the most, simple silver with diamonds encrusting it, just small enough to fit around a Jellicles' neck like a collar. She had shown her friends one day as they passed, and as they gazed at it she smiled sadly to herself, knowing that being a cat of less than humble origins left her only ever window shopping.

And then one day it was gone. She quickly looked all over the case, her paws finding their way onto the spotless glass as she tried to see the upper tiers of the case before she was shooed away, sad and dejected that it was gone.

At least until she returned home that night, finding it tucked safely under the pillow of her bed, a mystical air hanging around it. Shopping is always nicer when someone buys what you want for you.

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_**I guess it sort of gestures towards the idea of Mistoffelees getting it for her. Anyway, if you liked it, review!**_


	20. January 20, Jerk

_**A/N: Almost up to date!**_

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_**January 20**__**th**__**, 2010 – Jerk**_

"Cettie, Cettie!" Pouncival called, bouncing up to her and grinning. She fought the urge to raise a brow and simply smiled at him. Something was definitely up.

"Yeah?" She asked, standing up and stretching slightly. She had been lounging about all day, her fur warmed by the afternoon sun.

"I got something for you, like a present!" he said, jumping a little higher and grinning. Really, Etcetera did trust Pouncival. And while something seemed off she pushed it back, simply glad the Pouncival had thought enough to get her something.

"Really?" She breathed, surprised and elated. He nodded swiftly, directing her with a paw.

"Follow me!" They jogged away from the main area, and the further into unknown territory they got the more Etcetera began to worry.

"Uh… where exactly are we going?" She asked nervously, looking about. Nothing seemed familiar. Her pace had slowed to a nervous walk, paws hovering slightly before each step with no direct pattern in her footing. At some points her paws moved slowly, at others she scrambled to keep up with the still happy Pouncival.

"To your present." Pouncival said, turning back and stopping. Etcetera almost ran into him, skidding to a halt at the last minute.

"So… where is it?" She asked, looking about. All she could see were old rusted bicycles and tires from old SUV's.

"Right here." He said. Before Etcetera could repeat her question a weight slammed into her back, tossing her to the ground with a mighty scream. She scrambled to get away, wondering if it was a henchrat of Macavity's or a Pollicle when the weight shifted, removing itself. Pulling her paws away from her face she saw a laughing Pouncival giving a slightly tumbled Tumblebrutus a high five, joking at her expense. She growled and stormed back home, turning a corner and swiftly retreating the other way, having gone the wrong way in her haste. The two friends simply laughed harder.

"Toms are jerks."


	21. January 21, Soldier

_**A/N: 6 more until I'm up to date!**_

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_**January 21**__**th**__**, 2010 – Soldier**_

When Munkustrap was young, he used to play soldier.

All the toms would split into two teams and make a huge wall off junk in the middle of the Junkyard, hurling rocks over it like gunfire and running head to head, pretending to claw at each other whilst making slashing sounds. The queens would sit on the sidelines, cheering on their respective teams and healing the 'sick' and 'wounded'. It was pure, innocent fun at the time, something they did to keep themselves busy in the days where not much mattered because responsibility laid solely on their parents.

But not so much anymore.

Munkustrap watches over the Junkyard each night with alert, trained eyes, waiting for any signs of danger. Such trivial games they seem now… how stupid he seemed in the past. He saw only the valor and fame… but not the pain and the loss of being a real soldier.

And the kittens now… they play these games too. But they've seen what it's like, and every now and again one of them will be too put out by seeing their fathers and older siblings return home wounded to play at all. And soon enough they will all have to grow up and face this too, and Munkustrap can do nothing but watch as generation after generation of Jellicles become soldiers.


	22. January 22, Mock

_**A/N: Getting there…. Thought I'd throw in some more mean Pouncie, because he had a mean streak for some reason… or that's his way of interacting with queens :p What's the maximum numbers of chapters on anyway? How awesome would it be if I got to 365 chapters :p**_

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_**January 22**__**nd**__**, 2010 – Mock**_

"It can't be that bad." Jemima soothed, patting me on the back while I told her my problems. Electra lay on her stomach nearby, picking the dirt away from her paws.

"But it is!" I moaned, loaning back and making an exaggerated face. "For _months _I've had to put up with him! Nothing I do seems to be enough for him! It's horrible, he just keeps making fun of me!"

"Maybe he likes you." Electra giggled, rolling onto her back and putting her paws over her mouth to stifle her giggles. There's no way to explain my expression at that time other than an 'are you kidding me?' look.

"Of course he doesn't like me, moron." I said. Jemima rolled her eyes at the irony.

"I mean, _like _like you." She clarified. My jaw fell open, my arms slackening. She was really off her rocker now. Pouncival must hate me, detest me beyond all reason.

"There—there's no way that—that--"

"Give it up," Jemima smiled, "You know he likes you. Toms do things like that all the time."

"But he's like a brother!" I gaped. It was almost a horrifying subject. I'd seen Victoria and Plato, and they made me want to throw up. It was horrible to think that Pounce and I could _ever _be that way.

"Ew. Just…ew. Don't talk to me." I said, storming out of Jemima's den. I could feel their eyes on me as a left but I kept walking. I really just wanted to think for a while. Stepping out of the den I took a quick right, past some junk and into a sort of pathway leading to various other areas of the Junkyard.

"Hey there, freak-face."

"Oh Lord, it's you." I said in a quiet monotone, trying to ignore the figure walking beside me. He smirked, turning to walk backwards in front of me.

"Aww, is little Cettie having a bad day?" He said in a baby tone. I pushed him.

"No! I'm just sick of you." I cried, trying to get away. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me back.

"Look, I… I'm sorry, okay?" He said, looking down at his feet. I ripped my paw away from his vice-like grip.

"Oh, very funny. Where does the bag of spiders drop from? You know what, why don't you just stay away from me for a while?" I spat, storming off.

At this rate, I would never be successful with toms.

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This seems unfinished, yes, but over the year I'm working on this as a sort of Cettie/Pounce Universe story inside the actual story, so their relationship will develop over time. Just another reason to stay tuned :p


	23. January 23, Forgotten

**A/N: I'm afraid I won't be able to do all this.**

**I've lost all inspiration for writing CATS fiction, and though I will be updating this and AAL every now and again I just won't be able to do it all as well as my other projects.**

**I have excellent luck with picking times I can't write, don't I?**

**And to make up for this horrible message, I leave you with a drabble.**

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**January 23****rd****, 2010 – Forgotten**

They've forgotten about me.

They always do. There's so many others they can look at and fawn over, they can tell stories about. But I'm just in the background, making up the others, the nothing.

Who cares about my personality, right? My story? No one. Not when they have Curious Cats and thieves and magicians. They don't want to talk about me.

I'm Admetus. I'm the forgotten one.


	24. January 24, What's In A Name

**A/N: OOH! OOH! WRITING! This idea came to mind looking at some of the hilarious OC names. Word of warning – when you name an OC, try not to make them sound like Pokemon.**

_**January 24**__**th**__**, 2010 – What's in A Name**_

Jellicles are spread all over the world, just like people. They travel, just as we do, and they mingle, just as we do. Australasia, Europe, Africa, The America's, all over the world Jellicles are born and raised with the same traditions and beliefs.

The Jellicles of London are one of the larger groups, a tribe commonly visited. They gets hundreds of visitors a year, some just dropping in for a few days and some visiting for the Balls.

FireTail was one of them.

"You're name is definitely… creative, dear." Jenny said upon meeting the kitten, eyeing the fiery red fur of her tail and orange body.

"Yeah, my parents may have been stoned when they named me." Her Alabama accent was thick, each Jellicle straining their ears to pick out the words of this foreign type of talk. Jenny chuckled softly.

"Someone came in from New York a few days ago, maybe you would like to talk to her?"

"Yeah, her name is Truth!" Pouncival shouted.

"Wait, lemme guess – she's an innocent little angel?" FireTail asked sarcastically. Jellylorum laughed, somewhat forcefully.

"No, a lying little rascal. Thinks she's _so _smart for ruining my quilt!" Jelly spat angrily. Skimbleshanks patted her shoulder, calming her down.

"Oh… okay. I'll see you later then, hopefully." Skittishly, FireTail scampered away towards the snowy white queen (ears accented with black, of course) across the way.

"_FireTail._ Poor dear." Jenny murmured quietly.


	25. January 25, Not What It Sounds Like

_**A/N: So, two years on from when I first started this collection, I realised that I didn't even get through January. I just can't let that stand. So, albeit slowly, I plan to actually finish this story, and end with 365 chapters.**_

_**I'd also like to open up this opportunity for others in the Cats community! Cats was the first fandom I ever truly got involved in, and while my obsession with the musical has faded to make room for others fandoms my love for it has not. I'd love to have those of you that read this collection get involved, whether it be sending me in possible ideas for later chapters or writing some yourself (which I'd be more than happy to credit you with)! **_

_**For those of you who eagerly awaited an update you probably thought would never come, thank you from the bottom of my heart. For those who are reading this collection for the first time, welcome and enjoy!**_

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**January 25****th**** – Not What It Sounds Like**

"_Ow! Pounce, watch your knee!"_

"_Sorry!"_

"_Your hand needs to go lower – OUCH!"_

"_If you arch your back more, this won't hurt so much, Cet."_

"_Oh, so you're suddenly an expert on this, huh?"_

"_How would you know if I wasn't? It's not like you've ever – _Cass!"

"What are you two doing?"

"Playing Twister!"

"Playing Twister!"

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**Just something short, hopefully funny and very dirty minded to help me get back into writing the characters. xD**


	26. January 26, Strength

_**A/N: Was it sad that, uploading the last chapter, I was truly terrified of the backlash I was sure I would get from the Cats community I pretty much abandoned? I am a weak, weak little person.**_

_**Another note that, because of my struggle to find themes, I'm always open to suggestions! **_

_**So here I am, making up for killing Tumblebrutus in Call of Duty, and almost killing Tumblemouse in Target.**_

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**January 26****th**** – Strength**

For me, there are a lot of Jellicles that come to mind when I think of strength. We're a tribe made up or survivors, of strong cats and strong personalities to match them.

I think Munkustrap is a strong leader. He's willing to take some heat, to do the hard jobs to give us all the best he can give. His strength is an inner strength, an ability to stand up to those who oppose him. Courage; that's what Munkus has.

Mungojerrie has a more physical strength. So maybe at first sight he looks like a wiry frame with a lot of fat and fur piled on, but underneath that ginger coat is a lot of muscle, enough to take down Macavity on his own, if he had the inspiration. It's too bad his mind is always somewhere else, at a joke he hasn't told or a heist he hasn't pulled.

Mistofelees is strong, no doubt about it. With powers like his, he's really a step away from the rest. Not above, just... away. He takes a lot of crap about what he can do, but he still smiles and throws his paws into the air and creates a rainbow or an explosion or some other amazing thing. His magic; it's really something special. There's no denying it.

I suppose you could call Cassandra strong, too. It's in her eyes, this strength of mind, that she knows so much more than she lets on. She's always hiding behind this mask of seduction and fun and normality, but on the inside, I think she's the smartest out of all of us. She's intelligent, but she doesn't want anyone to know.

Now Tumblebrutus, he's really strong. Not because he's better than Munkus, or stronger than Jerrie, or smarter than Cass. He sure as Heaviside isn't going to pull a kitten out of a hat like Mistofelees did. But he does his best to be just like them. He works hard, so hard, to the point where he can barely stand. He wants to help so badly he's willing to put himself last. But more than that, he doesn't complain. It's almost like he isn't aware of what he does for everyone.

Just today, he came to me and he said "Jem, you seen Munkustrap?", and when I told him where Munkus was and asked him why, he gave me this lopsided, lively smile and said, "I just wanna see if he needs any help. He's a good tom, Jem. I wanna be just as good as him one day."

Tumble doesn't think of himself as a strong Jellicle, but he tries his best anyway. That's what makes Tumble strong.

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**I was going somewhere with this, and then I got lost. Hmm.**


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